ALL THAT HE WANTS (Volume 1 The Billionaire's Seduction) (46 page)

“Very funny,” he said, not laughing.

“Yeah… if I had the money.”

“The people I’d be recommending you to? They have the money.”

“You’d do that?”

“Like I said, Lily, I have faith in you. You should try to have a little in yourself.”

“Or just fake it till I do.”

He grinned. “Now you’re learning.”

We got back to the hotel long after 2AM. Connor opened the door slowly, scanning for any angry Asian bodyguards – but the penthouse was dark, and Johnny was apparently sound asleep in his room.

We tiptoed into the master bedroom and closed the door.

“I need to take a shower,” I said. I had a thin layer of dust and fine grit over my skin and hair, and there was no way I was getting into bed like
that.

I peeled off my dress and bra. The panties, as far as I knew, were still in Connor’s pocket.

He watched me as I undressed.

I enjoyed feeling his eyes roving over me.

“I’ll join you,” he whispered when I was finished.

I looked back at him and smiled. “Fine by me.”

While Connor undressed, I went into the bathroom. There were a number of small candles on the counters; I decided to light them rather than turn on the bright overhead lights.

And… y’know… just in case.

There was a light tap at the door.

“Come in,” I whispered.

The door opened, and he walked in.

Totally naked.

I caught my breath.

I
still
wasn’t used to seeing him like that. Still wasn’t used to seeing someone so
gorgeous
in front of me, and naked on top of it.

And Good Lord it was nice to see him naked.

I hadn’t been able to out in the desert. As fun as it had been, I had missed looking at his body.

His muscles rippled in the candlelight. His chest was broad and powerful. His arms looked more like a construction worker’s / fireman’s / insert-your-preferred-fantasy-here than a billionaire investor. His hands were big and beautifully sculpted, like Michaelangelo’s
David.

My eyes moved back to his body and the muscles of his torso. In the candlelight, his abs look like they were drawn in India ink, they were so deeply delineated by shadow.

And my eyes still kept going lower – to the seductive curve of his hipbones, and the lower muscles of his abdomen… to the thatch of dark curly hair… and below that, to the long, thick member that hung between his muscular thighs.

I just stood there looking at it, entranced by the shading of the light over the ridges and contours… and then it slowly started to expand… to get longer… to thicken and pull away from his thighs at a slight angle.

I looked up and saw him smiling at me in that naughty little
I know exactly what you’re looking at
way.

I blushed, though in the candlelight, I was pretty sure he couldn’t see it.

He walked over to me slowly, like a jungle cat stalking its prey.

My eyes dropped briefly to his thighs again, and watched his shaft sway heavily with his movement.

Then I forced myself to look up into his eyes as he came to a standstill in front of me.

He put out a hand and brushed my hair back from my shoulder.

“I love it that you like looking at me,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard.

“There’s a lot of nice reasons to look at you,” I answered truthfully.

He grinned and put his other hand up to my cheek, tilted my head up, and leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. So warm, so sweet. Our bodies weren’t even touching, but I could feel the heat radiating off him.

Well…
most
of our bodies weren’t touching.

Besides his hands on my face, I felt something soft and warm graze my thigh and slowly trail upwards, heartbeat by heartbeat, as it grew thicker and harder.

Oh God.

As his manhood grew, it brushed past my lips and my landing strip of hair, tantalizing me, teasing me.

Then, when it was fully erect, he stepped closer to me, pressing it against my belly, hot and massive and hard, but the skin still soft as it gently slid across my stomach.

I just stood there like that, hypnotized, his hands gently holding my face, his lips brushing a lingering kiss against mine, and the erotic pressure of his manhood against me, making me desperately want him inside me.

Then he pulled away.

“Weren’t we supposed to take a shower?” he whispered.

“Uhhhh… yeah…” I mumbled, my face still lifted up towards him, straining to continue the kiss.

Instead he grinned and turned towards the shower. As he did, his hands trailed down my chest, softly stroking my nipples before he moved away.

Grrrr.

He was the world’s worst tease. I would have
loved
to make him want me as much as he made
me
want him – and then leave him hanging.

For ten seconds or so.

But I don’t think the ‘him wanting me as much as I wanted him’ part was possible.

I’d have to work on it, though.

The soft hiss of water filled the air.

“Come on in,” he said as he took my hand.

The shower was wonderful, with the heat rising around us, and the flickering light of the candles through the pebbled glass, and the sensual feel of the water rushing over my skin.

But best of all was the person I was sharing it with.

He lathered up his hands and moved them over my skin, starting with my lower back and moving down to my ass, clutching my cheeks, kneading them, sliding his finger scandalously between them. Then he moved around to the front, soaping up his hands again and gliding them over my breasts, suspending them in his palms, tweaking my nipples between his soapy fingers and thumbs.

And all the while he kissed me – probing my mouth softly, leaving to gently nibble my ear, moving his lips down my neck, his tongue matching the wetness of the water cascading down my skin. Then he worked his way back up, sucking lightly at my lower lip, pressing his mouth firmly against mine, and caressing my tongue with his.

I kept busy, too.

First I soaped up my hands and reached around to
his
backside.

Ohhhhhhhh my God.

I sincerely hope that someday you get to hold as fine an ass in your hands as I did right then.

I roved my fingers over his cheeks – firm, muscular,
powerful
– soaping them up, playing with them, clutching them tight as I could.

Of course, that pressed something
else
up against me. So, after a few minutes, I moved on to it.

Again I soaped up my hands and started with the insides of his legs. I worked my hands up slowly… caressing the well-defined outlines of his muscular thighs… and then my fingers brushed against his balls.

I didn’t go too fast, though. I just kept my soapy fingers playing along his legs, up to where they joined his body, letting the backs of my fingers graze against his more sensitive parts. And then I took the tip of one finger, soapy and slick, and lightly touched his sack. Traced my finger across the sensitive skin, around the pendulous weights… and then cradled his balls in the palm of my hand.

With the other hand I made a ‘C’ with my forefinger and thumb, and lightly –
barely
touching his skin – started to move up his rock-hard shaft. There was more friction from the soap bubbles than there was from my actual hand.

He groaned.

I figured I was on the right track.

I made my way all the way up to the head, and then I moved my hand slowly back down, all the while softly caressing his balls, soaping them up, feeling their weight in my palm.

He stopped kissing me and just stood there, eyes closed, mouth open, and moaned.

I turned him slightly, letting the water hit him and wash away all the soap.

And then I bent over.

He was so long, I didn’t have far to go.

I took his firm, swollen head in my mouth.

He groaned louder and braced his hands against the tile walls.

The spray of the water played over my skin as I went down further – one inch, two inches, as much as I could take of something so huge in my mouth – and then came back up and licked the underside of his shaft.

Then I plunged down again, a little bit further, wetting him with my mouth, slicking him down with my tongue.

He was groaning more or less non-stop by now.

That was when I stood up and immediately shut off the water.

His eyes flew open in shock.

I smiled sweetly, let my fingers trace along the underside of his cock, and then pulled away as I stepped out of the shower.

“All clean,” I announced, grabbed a towel, and headed into the dark bedroom.

If I were to describe it in a country song, he watched me go like I’d just run off with his pickup truck, his dog, and his last bottle of whiskey.

Maybe I
could
pull off that ‘making him want me more than I want him’ thing after all.

He didn’t let me get away with it for long, though.

I was about ten feet away from the bed when he came racing out and almost tackled me from behind, his wet, powerful body smacking hard against my back.

I half-shrieked, half-laughed as his arms wrapped around me and pressed me hard against him.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered hoarsely in my ear.

I tilted my head up and turned it towards him.

He kissed me hungrily as his hands founds my breasts and fondled them, hot and wet in his hands.

I broke off the kiss this time. “How do you want me to make it up to you?” I asked innocently, batting my eyes.

“I can think of a few ways,” he whispered, then turned me around so we faced each other. Then he grabbed my ass and began kissing me fervently again.

I ran my hands over the wet skin of his back, and felt his throbbing shaft – slick from my own mouth – slide across my belly.

Then he pulled back, and I swear he would have twirled his mustache if he had one.

“…I know,” he whispered.

Uh oh.

“…wwwwhaaaat?” I asked warily.

He grinned and pushed me down on the bed.

“I’m getting the bed wet!” I protested.

“Before I’m through with you, it’s going to be a lot wetter,” he growled.

Oh my.

I waited and watched as he retrieved a couple of candles from the bathroom and put them on the tables by the bed. Then he went over to the closet and reemerged carrying four ties.

My mouth dropped open. “Um…”

“I want to tie you up,” he whispered.

“Ummmm…”

“Come on – you’ve let me do other things to you that you liked.” He paused. “You
did
like them, didn’t you?”

I blushed in the candlelight, and took my sweet time to answer.

“…yes.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He knotted one end of the tie around my left wrist. Not too tight. The cloth was so soft that it could have been tighter, actually.

“Isn’t that tie really expensive?” I asked, worried.

“So?” he asked as he lashed the skinnier end to the headboard, pulling my arm out at an angle.

“So should you use it?”

“Never been put to a better purpose, I can guarantee you that,” he murmured as he moved across me, pausing to kiss me (and let me feel the delicious brush of his cock against my thighs) before he moved on to the other arm and my legs.

 Within sixty seconds I was lying spread-eagle on the bed, with silk shackles tied firmly around my wrists and ankles. My legs were forced apart at a ninety-degree angle, the most private parts of me exposed, as Connor stood at the foot of the bed devouring me with his eyes.

I watched as his massive hard-on seemed to swell just a little bit more, the head lifting further into the air.

“Very nice,” he whispered, his eyes taking in the ‘V’ of my legs.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about this.

On the one hand, the ‘being tied up’ part wasn’t doing much for me.

But the feeling of total submissiveness was.

So, okay, maybe it
was
doing something for me.

I felt a certain amount of embarrassment as his eyes lingered over my lower parts…

…but I can’t deny how much I enjoyed the look in his eyes, either.

Or how wet I was.

And not just from the shower.

He knelt down at the foot of the bed, his eyes locked on mine. He began to softly kiss and lick my skin, still beaded with water from the shower, starting with my foot. His tongue and lips slowly moved from my calf, to my knee, to my inner thigh, up to my wide-open legs.

By the time his mouth enveloped my lower lips, I was trembling.

And I discovered something else: whatever my feelings about being tied up, the resistance was
wonderful.
I could strain and fight against the bonds – which I did – and it just heightened my pleasure. I don’t know why, but I
really
enjoyed the sense of struggling and powerlessness…

…as he slowly took me with his tongue and mouth.

His fingers smoothed away the water droplets on my belly as his tongue stroked me, caressed me, parted me, filled me.

I moaned and tensed my arms, pulling hard – but nothing happened.

I was trapped there.

I couldn’t get away from the pleasure.

He moved one hand up to my chest and softly massaged and played with my breasts. At the same time, he began to circle my clit with his tongue, caressing it, flicking it softly, pressing against it with a firm, wet pressure and then sliding away, leaving me aching for more.

“Oh God,” I moaned as he softly pinched one nipple and took
all
of me down there in his mouth, pressing his tongue deep inside.

Not as deep as I wanted, though.

And I wanted something
much
bigger.

I lifted my ass into the air, resisting my bonds, straining against his touch, wanting more, needing more, demanding more.

His mouth released me and he got up on all fours, looming over me.